


Knot today, Satan (our ode for a helping hand)

by The_Readers_Muse



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Adult Content, Adult Language, Alpha!Foggy, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beta!Claire, Beta!Karen, Claire tells them they are idiots and things end up pretty okay actually, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Kink Meme, Knotting, Light Bondage, M/M, Neither is Foggy, Non-con Drug Use, Omega!Matt, Sex Toys, Someone touches Matt's Alpha - he is NOT amused, dub-con due to questionable biology, heat/rut sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-05 05:06:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4167057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Readers_Muse/pseuds/The_Readers_Muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was perched on the side of a building - crumbling brick, slick on the under-sides with moss and decade old diesel dust - when he heard it. Five miles east of the river. Downwind. Two life-time smokers flirting with the beginning stages of lung cancer and one frighteningly familiar heartbeat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Marvel's "Daredevil", wishful thinking aside.
> 
> Authors Note #1: This is a Matt/Foggy fic, set post season one. Inspired by a prompt on the Daredevil kink meme which asked for Foggy as an alpha, Matt as an Omega, and Karen as a beta. I didn't manage to fill the specifics of the prompt, which included involvement from other superheroes, but managed to get the important bits, I think. – This is my second work in the fandom and my first a/b/o fic so yeah, starting with a bang.
> 
> Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega verse trope, adult language, non-con drug use, dub-con because of questionable biology, forced rut and how the boys deal with that, light bondage, sexual content, adult language, heat/rut sex.

He was perched on the side of a building - crumbling brick, slick on the under-sides with moss and decade old diesel dust - when he heard it. Five miles east of the river. Downwind. Two life-time smokers flirting with the beginning stages of lung cancer and one frighteningly familiar heartbeat.

"Look, where is Jonas, huh? It's been three hours," a voice complained, male and bold despite the fact that the undercurrents were seeded with nerves. "The shit we injected him with has a shelf life, you know. We've got maybe two hours to get anything lucid out of him and then he's rut-city on steroids. We ain't got all day."

He strained to make out the other heartbeat. Teeth worrying his lower lip bloody as it rolled out – base-line and hiccuping – dangerously slow. Too slow.  _Drugged._  He hated the sound immediately. It wasn't right. He knew Foggy's heartbeat better than he knew anything. It was a constant. Strong.  _Steady_. Nothing like this. His lip curled into a snarl as the echoes of the two inferior rhythms covered up the rest. Drowning out the sluggish beat as a second voice answered the first.

"Will you relax already? Jesus, Eddie. You're giving me indigestion over here. I wasn't the one that snapped the wrong lawyer, you moron. How hard can kidnapping a blind man from his own god damned apartment be anyway?"

"They both use suppressors you idiot! How was I supposed to know? I had him tranked up before I got a good look at his face. Intel never said he'd be there! Murdock was supposed to be home. Not this stupid asshole! What was I supposed to do, leave him there? He's a fucking lawyer!" the first man snarled, angry but with the growing singe of fear as worn boot heels ground themselves across the smooth concrete.

"You think he was just going to shake it off and head back home, tail between his legs? I had no choice! Besides, figured I'd do us all a favor. You  _know_  how itchy everyone gets when we have to put a knife to an Omega. Not fuckin' natural if you ask me. I don't care what the boss wants with their dinky-ass firm, I'm not-"

"You're just lucky Jonas had the juice to manage our little Alpha problem," the second man interrupted, heated but growingly amused. Teasing in a brutal sort of way that spoke more of past history than anything else. "Don't think I wouldn't have personally served your balls up to the boss on a silver platter to save my own, you got that?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, man," the first voice griped, fumbling with something, metal-sliding out of cheap denim. "Dammit! We're never using this place again, I've got no reception on this fucking thing. He could have been calling! Let's head topside so we can get a hold of that jumpy shithead and get the ball moving huh?"

The second man grunted. Retreating footsteps following slow, shaking out something that smelled like tar and ammonia – heart beat fluttering with the beginnings of nicotine withdrawal. He cocked his head, pulling back his hearing as a match flared up – roaring minutely as the second voice followed the first – slamming the door. Leaving that slow, singular beat and an entire universe full of reasons why they should never make it out of that building alive.

The rage that came next was like a white-out. A siren call of violence and crimson-red as the world condensed. But instead of ripping him away. Instead of drowning him in it. It folded in on itself, twisting until the path he'd already been planning to take highlighted itself in twinned flames of the purest white.

_Existential._

_Holy._

_Blessed._

He was running before he was consciously aware of his feet hitting the ground.

* * *

Like the "Great Face Touching Incident of 2008," they only talked about it once.

About how Foggy was an Alpha and he was an Omega.

Honestly, for most people it  _was_  an issue. Alphas and Omegas rooming together.  _Living together._ Becoming best friends without any of that weird hormonal junk that tends to get in the way. People's attitudes had come a long way in the past half a century. But social change was a slow animal and the dredges of public opinion often held more sway than people liked to think. The old attitudes were still alive, if not exactly well. Thriving best where ignorance and cruelty did the same.

Hell, their college was damn near _progressive_  pairing them together in the first place. And for good reason. He'd nearly been knocked sideways by his scent – hormone blockers or not – the day he'd tapped his way into their dorm. Thick and salty-sweet, edged with a hint of something that might have been nutmeg and corner-store gasoline that he both liked and hated immediately.

Everything about Foggy had been loud, bright and different. But it was the scent that gave him away. Something only he could pick up. The lingering wisps of  _Alpha_  that made his Omega want to heel. Leaving him shivering and biting back a whimper as something about the man just clicked from day one.

_His._

It had brought him up short, the day they'd met. Stopping him cold as he'd gripped his cane. Knuckles white and bloodless as the squeak of bed-springs from the opposite side of the room heralded the movement of someone getting up. Wafting that enticing scent ever closer as he stood his ground and plastered on a tentative smile.

That had never happened before. All the Alphas he'd met? None of them even came close. He'd spent less than five seconds in the same room with him and he was already thinking of a thousand reasons why he needed to either climb Foggy like a tree or throw himself out of the nearest window.

Then, of course, he'd started talking.

And honestly, Foggy had him  _long_  before avocados.

* * *

He breathed in time with that slow, sluggish beat as he wound his way through the city streets. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop. Pulse pounding in his ears. Uncaring of the stir that rippled in his wake as cars screeched and crowds parted. Murmuring the man's name like a mantra – a prayer – as his lungs burned.

_Hold on, Foggy._

_Jesus, just hold on._

* * *

Months passed and they ended up being the only Alpha and Omega roomies that hadn't either paired up or requested a room change. So naturally the gossip pools were both hilarious and cut-throat. Because despite being quickly established as the best of friends – inseparable and weirdly in-tune best of friends – and nothing more, the whispers had followed them all the way through to graduation. Wondering if they were really "just friends" or if they'd paired up like good Alphas and Omegas were supposed to do and were just keeping it secret because of Foggy's large and very rambunctious family. Or if it was some sort of religious thing, betting on the fact that he still managed to totter his way to Church almost every Sunday – essay due dates or not.

Maybe they were ahead of the curve. Maybe it was just them. Or maybe he was lying between his teeth trying to make sure he didn't ruin the best thing that had ever happened to him over something as stupid as an adolescent crush that showed absolutely no sign of being returned. At least not the way he wanted it to be.

His reasoning depended on the day and how much of his soul he was willing to part with. Because the truth was, like it or leave it, lying to Foggy had always felt a whole lot like a mortal sin. Like something he was going to burn for, but couldn't bring himself to care about as long as he had Foggy. As long as he had-

* * *

He hit the roof of the building running, catching voice number one in mid-phone call. Raspy voice double-hitching in surprise as he materialized on the railing of the fire escape and slammed the man backwards. Phone skittering away as the second man choked on a breath, cigarette arcing out, wind milling cherry-red as the thug fumbled with the gun shoved in his waistband.

"What did you dose him with?" he growled, fisting the man's collar with a vicious yank. Hissing, teeth bared as Foggy's fear scent slicked over him like oil. The man was drenched in it. A jarring perfume of Foggy's blood, sweat, saliva,  _everything_. And that was wrong. Wrong. Wrong.  _Wrong._  Foggy was his.  _His Alpha_. They'd touched him. Taken him. They were going to-

"S-sup-suppressant-inhibitor!" the man squealed, ignoring the groan from his partner as he knocked both their heads together on principal. Feeling the tendrils of rage stretch waspishly, enticingly close underneath his skin as a small, dark little voice wondered what it would be like to squeeze the life out of them. To take them apart in pieces, to-

"Triple dose! Fast acting! It's not even on the market! Experimental! It's still waiting to get approved by some committee 'nd shit! Christ! You're going to break my-"

"Antidote," he pressed, feel the vibrations as the man's feet spidered out across the dry concrete. Struggling for purchase as he kept his friend in a loose choke-hold. Playing each and every muscle spasm to his advantage as the man writhed in his grip but only managed to make it worse for himself. Tightening in increments.

"There isn't one!" the second voice moaned, body a wreath of throbbing bruises threatening to break ground. Holding his head in his hands as the liquid-drip of fresh blood  _plink-plinked_  across the old concrete-grit. "Not unless you count time as one. That mouthy prick is going to go into a full blown rut and there's nothing you can do to stop-"

The twin blows he rained down, sending both alphas slumping into unconsciousness, wasn't nearly as satisfying as it should have been. But then again, he was pretty distracted.

* * *

"Yeah, I mean, I've never exactly been down with the whole 'slave to ones biology thing'," Foggy commented conversationally. Tone surprisingly level despite the creeping discomfort that was making its way into his heart beat. Turning the steady toll he'd come to love so much over the last few months into a faster, harsher staccato.

"Because, no offense meant," he continued, fiddling with the label of the shitty beer they were drinking. Camped out on the floor between their beds and trying desperately not to think about their mid-term in the morning. "Not meaning to be that dude or anything - but Alphas get it too you know?"

"The instincts? The drives? It takes over and sometimes, well, let's just say it isn't fun," Foggy shared, body language a symphony of embarrassed discomfort. Like he was trying to figure out how they'd gotten to this topic in the first place.

"I'm not saying we have it worse or anything, cause we don't. Ruts never last as long as heats. But well, its two sides of the same biological coin, you know? Omegas have their heats. Alphas have their ruts. That's something neither side can escape. And society kind of focuses on that, you know? Defines you by it. The 'out of control Alpha' or whatever," Foggy continued, grimacing near the end in a way that made him want to trace the expression with his fingers.

_And lips._

_And tongue._

"Ah crap, I just did air-quotes," Foggy informed him after a beat. Making him grin in spite of himself as a light blush made heat tracks down his friend's skin.

He took a careful sip from his bottle. Tasting a thousand different tangs from half a dozen different places. Enough to tell him that he would be vetoing this brand the next time they were at the store as the soft hush of his friend's long hair ghosted across his shoulders.

"A lot of alphas use their rut as an excuse for their actions," he pointed out, speaking for what felt like the first time in a decade. Head cocked to the left as he focused on the man intently. Eyes fixed on a point that existed somewhere over the blond's right shoulder. "Omegas are seen as weak because of their biology, yet Alphas are considered strong because of it."

Foggy just made a farting noise. Expelling a breath that funneled down the neck of the bottle, echoing like the howl of a miniature train.

"Most Alphas are full of shit. But it's even worse if they buy into that predestined dominance crap," Foggy grunted, sounding surprisingly sober for someone who'd managed to polish off three shots of cheap tequila and four beers in under two hours. "Besides, it isn't about that."

"What  _is_  it about?" he parroted, senses buzzing happily. His inner Omega practically purring as their legs brushed and neither of them pulled away. Familiar and warm as contentment pooled like lazy arousal in the pit of his belly.

"Oh come on! It's about lifetime movies and reunion cut scenes, man! The good stuff! It's about finding your mate.  _Your true mate._  About a partnership of equals, different biologically sure, but a partnership all the same. I know everything can't be hakuna matata all the time, but  _jeeze_. People need to chill. It's just hormones. It doesn't define who you are – what you're worth. It's just biology."

Foggy was different.

He'd known that much right away.

He'd never heard an Alpha talk about their orientation as anything less than a birthright. A Physical manifestation of their superiority. Only Foggy didn't embrace it like they did. He practically  _shunned_ it. Acting like it was a separate part of him, inconvenient and not worthy of any lasting attention. Something that could be neatly forgotten with the right prescription from the pharmacy and a healthy dose of self-denial. It wasn't that he was ashamed of it, no, it wasn't that. It was more like it was a non-issue and Foggy couldn't care less.

Which was fine. Great even.

Only, it was also kind of driving him absolutely  _insane_.  
 **  
**"So you've never..." he started, thick-throated and awkward before trailing off. Mildly aware of the fact that the floor beside him was jingling with the vibrations of empty shot-glasses and back-washed beer bottles.

"What? Had a rut?" Foggy replied bluntly, making him want to die a little as the man unconsciously lengthened the last syllable. Making the word sound absolutely  _obscene_. Bold and beyond reproach as Foggy took a long swallow, finishing off his beer before he continued.

"Course I did. I hit puberty and basically got run over by a cement mixer of hormones and  _hoo_ \- let me tell you, presenting because your next door neighbour's Omega grandson is visiting? Only a few days from his heat?  _So_  not kosher, man. My mom found me trying to take out the front door, ass-naked at four in the morning with my di-"

"No!" he burbled, slightly strangled. Blurting it out like it could stop the cascade of mental images. "I mean- um," he faltered, sure his cheeks were as red as anything. Forced to make a vague hand-motion, something he hoped looked approximately like-

"What dude? You want another beer?" Foggy frowned, long hair flipping out as he toed their dorm fridge open with an indulgent stretch. "Are you- _oh_. Oh.  _That_. No."

"No?" he repeated, not sure if he'd heard him correctly. Focusing on the surprisingly steady heartbeat beside him – honest but growingly embarrassed – as Foggy yanked the last two bottles out of the fridge.

"I've been on suppressants since my first rut man. And that's how I plan to keep it. Least until I find the one, you know?" Foggy explained, popping the tops. Waiting till he'd chugged the rest before handing him a fresh one.

"If I am going to shack up with someone I don't want it to be about hormones. Least not  _those_  hormones. It has to be real you know? I don't want someone jumping on my dick just because I pop a knot in the spring every year. Or get caught in the street with a super-boner because an Omega nearing heat touched the railing beside me on the subway. I don't I want to be involved with someone that only wants my knot and not particularly what's behind it. Feel me?" Foggy shared. Or overshared. Depended on how you looked at it.

"You are very blunt about all this," he choked, trying not to splutter into his beer as Foggy sort of melted across the mattress, moving until they were hip to hip and Foggy was completely  _ruining_ him with a chorus of contented sounds. Rearranging himself so that he was more or less upright.

"Dude, I am  _very_ drunk and  _very_  stoned right now. Regrets will have to wait until tomorrow's hangover, deal?"

"Deal," he echoed, nodding. Feeling the man's grin as their bottles clinked together.  
Steering the conversation back to safer waters as Foggy started harping about their new Political Science RA and her apparent love affair with red pens when it came to marking. Indignation bright and politely scathing as he watched the heatwaves radiate from his friend in sluggish whorls of red-scale color.

And while it certainly wasn't the first time he'd entertained the thought, right then and there he reminded himself how easy it would be to fall in love with Foggy Nelson.

* * *

The river he was currently drowning in may or may not have been called denial.

Honestly, he'd spent the last decade or so too afraid to check.


	2. Chapter 2

He'd managed to get one hand free by the time Foggy blinked himself awake. Chewing with slow viciousness at the gag clenched between his teeth until he hushed him and fumbled with the double-knot. Yanking it down as the strings of Foggy's hair – sweaty and salt-streaked – brushed across the front of his mask.

"Matt-" Foggy slurred, heat signature flickering, dangerously close to fever-hot as something sweet and dark pooled in the pit of his stomach. Hating himself for basking in the wrecked syllables as his Alpha struggled with the name.  _His name._  "Ma-Matt?"

"I'm here. I've got you, Foggy," he hummed, freeing one of the man's ankles from where it was zip-tied around the leg of the chair before Foggy's free hand shot out. Clumsy but surprisingly strong. Catching him by the pale of his throat, gently firm as the silent command caused him to freeze in place. It was instinctual and basic. Something he recognized deep in the very core of himself as he watched Foggy through the fan of his lashes. The dark of them fluttering prettily as the Alpha's chest rose and fell like a bellows.

"Matt…" Foggy breathed, inhaling audibly. Heart-rate jumping despite the crushing weight of whatever they'd dosed him with as he followed the line of his own arm down to where it cupped his throat.

 _Oh._ The exclamation was silent but he felt it all the same. His inner Omega almost keening when instead of dropping the hand, Foggy's fingers only flexed, tracing the racing butterfly of his pulse as a soothing croon left cracked lips.

"Matty…" Foggy started, uncertain. Licking his lips as the last of it came out as a croak. "Is this-is this okay? I don't-"

"Fine, Foggy," he whispered, hands frozen around the second last zip-tie. Never meaning something so much in his life as he fought the urge to rub his face into his best friend's thigh. "It's fine."

Because it  _was_  fine.

_It was._

And it wasn't _._

_Because Foggy was drugged and hours from his first rut since puberty and oh god-_

"Matt, I just- I need to," Foggy halted, muscles twitching, restless under the skin as his head lolled – struggling to keep him in focus. Seeming to give up on words entirely when he let go of a hiss of frustration and surged forward.

He was brought up short, hands falling uselessly at his sides as Foggy reeled him in. Burying his face into the crook of his neck as his friend took a series of long, shuddering breaths. Mainlining him like he was oxygen as the Alpha scented him – bold and relieved. Broad chest rumbling against his as the chair creaked in warning.

"I was so worried, man…  _Christ_ , they said-" Foggy started, bruises shining through his skin like crimes committed. "I said- they were going to-"

It was the building panic in Foggy's voice that unstuck his throat. That made him reach up and grip the man in return. Fisting him tight and squeezing his eyes shut as he nosed along Foggy's hairline and tried to calm his racing heart.

"It's alright, Foggy, I'm fine, I'm here," he whispered, reedy and breathless. "I've got you. Let's get you somewhere safe, alright?"

* * *

He wasn't sure how, but he managed to stuff Foggy through the window of his apartment an indeterminable time later. He'd changed clothes on route. Considering it the lesser of more than a few evils as he pocketed his mask and pinched a jacket that was hanging, half-dried on someone's railing. Steering Foggy down back-alleys and switch-back shortcuts as the Alpha started to regain himself.

The smell of Foggy's rut was almost overpowering now. Sweet and thick and alluring. Just like he knew it would be. Already potent enough to draw attention from Betas and Omegas alike as they passed. Scenting the air with clear interest as their eyes flickered from Foggy, to him, then down to the growing tent in Foggy's trousers with an exaggerated drag.

It had been a bit too easy to play the part. To bare his teeth at anyone who strayed too close. Pretending to be the protective bondmate hustling their Alpha home before they ended up doing something indecent in public. Snapping and letting go of a series of soft, warning growls. The Omega in him visibly bristling – territorial - as Foggy hung onto him like a limpet. Keeping it up until the offenders either laughed, hands up in mock-surrender or decided to take their desires elsewhere. While inside he was practically seething with jealousy and guilty concern.

He'd left three messages on Claire's phone by the time they reached his building and Foggy had barely said a word. Big eyes cracked to slits as his breathing grew laboured and uneven. Practically dragging him up the fire escape when the man tried to bail by the third floor. Whining high and moody as he broke out into a feverish sweat, rut settling in with a vengeance.

"Just one more step, Foggy… _come on_ ," he urged, pulling up the broken latch on the window as Foggy tugged on his collar. Getting tangled up in his suit jacket as he tried to pull it off without giving up the death grip he had on his right shoulder. Snarling without heat when he made to pull away – springing through the window ahead of him so that he could guide his friend through.

He caught the tint of blood on the air when their hips brushed and Foggy bit through his lower lip. He shuddered, feeling their conjoined arousal ooze out into the open. It made him clumsy, frustrated, slamming the window closed behind them as Foggy puddled across the floor like a moving tide.

"Oh man…" Foggy murmured, fingers splaying out across the crappy laminate. Soaking in the relative chill as he rolled onto his back, clumsy fingers tangling with his belt. "I don't feel so good, buddy. I think I'm gonna-"

He wasn't sure if it was the smell or the rippling of the throat muscles that gave it away, but he sensed the surge of vomit before the Alpha started scrambling. Helping him get up and to the bathroom as Foggy retched up what sounded like everything he'd ever eaten in his entire life into the basin of his toilet.

They stayed like that for a long time. Foggy dry-heaving and murmuring nonsense into the rusty porcelain. And him holding onto Foggy by the shoulders and trying not to breathe. Making soothing sounds into the sweaty spikes of his hair, promising himself that whoever had done this would pay. Whoever had done this to them.  _To Foggy_. Would get it all back ten-fold.

He'd make sure of it.

* * *

He force fed Foggy three glasses of water. Coaxing him through each swallow with wordless praise and lingering touches that seemed to motivate and frustrate in turn. Not above using whatever means necessary as he tried to remember if his basic first aid courses had ever covered anything close to- well, whatever this was.

_Fluids were good right?_

_Flushing out the system?_

_Hydration?_

_Stay hydrated?_

_Wasn't that what they always said on the TV shows?_

He called Claire two more times and watched Foggy take an impromptu nap on his kitchen floor. Wondering how much skin he'd have to show to get him onto the bed so that his back wouldn't hate him in the morning.

* * *

"Gotta tie me up, Matty," Foggy slurred, collapsing on the edge of the mattress – frame tilting dangerously until he shoved him over. Rolling him closer to the center like a human burrito as the man went without complaint. Too busy pushing his hips into the balled up curve of the silk sheets. Thrusting listlessly as his cock strained against the zipper of his undone pants.

"I'll want it- you," he groaned, looking painfully gorgeous against the – well, the saleslady had told him was a bold coal color - as he yanked off the loose knot of his tie and slithered out of his shirt. "I  _already_  want- want you. Please Matt…you smell so good and I don't-"

He shook his head, emphatic. A violent side to side that felt more like whip-lash as Foggy's heat signature rippled – like the slow spread of an oil slick on a scorching summer's day.

"Foggy, I can't, you can't ask me to-"

"I can- _I am_ …" the man insisted, forcing the words through gritted teeth as the sudden sound of skin on skin echoed between the spaces in their breathing. Unable to do anything about the fact that his dick was straining against his fly. Not having to imagine what would cause it as the slick sound of pre-cum – musky, strong and virile – made him twitch. Itching to move as his fingertips caressed the air. Sensing the subtle change in every movement as Foggy's thumb circled the crown again and again.

He wet his lips. Wondering hazily what he must look like to Foggy. Flushed, wanting and uncertain as the Alpha jerked himself off in his bed. Smearing the sheets with his scent. Marking it.  _Claiming him._  Was he watching? Did he know? Could he sense-

"I'm serious, Matt. I was half out of it when they dosed me the second time. I didn't let them know I was shakin' off whatever they gave me before. I know what they said. It's experimental and  _mmpph_ \- I haven't had a rut in so long, who knows what I might-"

Somewhere down the street an Omega father soothed a crying child. Humming a soft lullaby as a door creaked open, allowing the Alpha mother inside. Speaking softly – tones worried – as the Omega murmured something about a low-grade fever.

"You won't," he firmed, feeling the truth of it,  _believing it_  even as Foggy writhed, head slamming back against the pillows. Flirting with the dusty air as the man inhaled sharply.

"I'm asking, buddy. Right here, right now. It's the smart call. I don't want to hurt you…I couldn't- Matt, _please_."

* * *

He had Foggy mostly strapped down, a mixture of belts and ropes gently padded with wash cloths and whatever was within reach clothing-wise when whatever was left of the Alpha's self-control snapped.

The man was bare under the thin cover of his sheets. The slide of skin on silk told him that. Highlighting it in all its glory as the Alpha's cock throbbed. Long, fat, proud and weeping at the slit as he started yanking on his bonds – whining between his teeth as his dick bobbed ineffectually. Unable to get the friction it needed as Foggy humped the air. Giving off arousal and need like smoke signals as something pulled at the very heart of him. Whispering. Telling him all he would have to do would be to submit. To help. Help his Alpha.  _His._  He wanted to help Foggy, didn't he? It wasn't humane to watch him suffer. Foggy would understand that, wouldn't he? It wasn't right to let him go through it alone. Not when he could do something about it. Not when-

He licked his lips, mouth dry.

"Foggy, don't-"

The rattling growl was almost enough to put him on his knees. Wanting it. Needing it.  _Slick for_   _it_ as a roll of lubrication trickled between his cheeks. He clenched on reflex. Knowing the man could smell it.

He closed his eyes, desperately trying to center himself as Foggy's scent fused itself into his senses. Permanent and damning as the Omega in him purred. His mate was strong. Virile.  _Worthy_. Crowing with cocky pleasure as he answered the Alpha's scent with that of his own. Letting them intermingle in the muggy air as Foggy's growl lessened into a whine. Chuffing deep in his throat like a predator butting heads with its mate. Enjoying the closeness as they rubbed the proof of their union deep into the others fur.

He reached forward, cautious, hands spread as he made the movement slow and unthreatening. Showing the man what he was doing as he hovered overhead, slowly tightening the last buckle that held the man in place.

It was only when he made to pull away that Foggy lurched. Body snapping upwards, taut and screaming with pent up strength and aggression. Teeth missing the dip of his collarbone by half an inch as they bit down on empty air.

"You smell like mine," Foggy thrummed, breathless. Looking strangely content despite the violence of the movement. Still straining upwards even as he jerked back instinctively. Joy and hungry confusion edging for first place as the Alpha looked up at him. Rut settling – chemicals and pheromones swirling – as the realization, the truth of it ingrained itself bone deep.

" _Mine_. You smell like you're already mine. Matty, why-"

He rabbited, yanking himself away before he did something they'd both regret. Torn, wanting and hating himself all at the same time as Foggy let go of a confused burst of sound. Calling his name and pulling at the ropes that tied him to the headboard as he slid down to the floor on the other side of the door. Painfully hard, stomach roiling, pressing the re-dial button on his phone until he couldn't feel the tip anymore. Feeling the wrongness of it trickling down him like unholy water during communion as Foggy called out for him again and again.

Suddenly convinced that there were worse sins out there than the mortal ones.


	3. Chapter 3

“He's _fine_ , Matt,” Claire repeated, pulling off her gloves with a tired _snap-snap-stretcccch_. Vaguely aware that he might have heard her say as much six times in the last five minutes.  
  
“But-”  
  
He could hear the exhaustion stress-lining fractures into the words as they aired out. Dead on her feet after a double shift in emergency before hailing the cab that’d got her across the city and up to see Foggy about two hours after the promised rut bowled them over like an oncoming freight train. Thickening the air with the singular sweetness of pheromone-laced narcotics and natural heat. Killing him in inches, feeling like a live-wire in his own skin.

“Matt, I know you're worried but you aren't listening. _He. Is. Fine._ Other than the drug and his rut - which has only really just started – he’s fine. Alphas are made to take a beating, remember? Your friend is a lot tougher than he looks. He has a few bruised ribs and a bump on the head, but there is no sign of a concussion. As long as his levels remain stable the best thing for him right now is to cycle through whatever it is they dosed him with so that his body can rest,” Claire told him, blunt but not unkind.

He blinked fast, fighting the urge to scrub away the threat of unwelcome of tears. As the whinge of straining wood and stressed leather issued from the bedroom. Trying and failing to separate himself from what was happening inside as Foggy’s pulse raced. Breathing hard through his nose as the man whispered his name like a mantra.

“This isn’t what he would want,” he started, choking on the words as they rose up like bile. Feeling more than seeing the concerned downturn of her lips as he tried to find the words. “Not like this. He wouldn’t- he told me, he doesn’t like-”

“Biology doesn’t usually give people much of a chance, Matt,” she sighed, sensing the rustling of cloth as she put her hands on her hips. Not needing to see the fiery outline of her face to know she was giving him that look. The same one she fixed him with when he’d popped his stitches and swung by her apartment with a couple new ones.

“And he’s spent most of his life cheating his. Things like this? It’s just a matter of time before they turn around and bite you in the ass. You can’t hide from who you are – _what_ you are. Suppressors have their place, I am not denying that, but going this long without a rut? Well, he’s made this a lot harder on himself then you and I can probably guess.”

“There has to be something you can do,” he started, fists clenched at his sides as Foggy moaned. Bed creaking, unable to even so much as touch himself as the sound of his heartbeat grew deafening. Keeping him on edge and hyper-focused as spider-fractures started hissing through the wooden headboard, threatening to give way any second if-

“No, but there’s something _you_ can do,” she replied.

He baulked. He didn’t even have to hear her say it.

“No.”

Her sigh had an edge of exasperated anger to it this time as she started stuffing things back into her bag. “Look, I don’t have an Omega nose, or even an Alpha one. And I sure as hell don't have…whatever it is you do. But for Christ's sakes he wants you, Matt! Not your Omega. Not _any_ Omega. _He wants you_. I know you heard him. He's half delirious and all he wants is to _see_ you. To know you’re safe. He’s tied up and he couldn’t care less. It’s all about you. All this time, for however long you’ve known each other. It’s always been _you._ ”

“I don’t-” he croaked, starting and stopping as Foggy twisted in place in the other room, jerking a hard left as the Alpha figured out which side of the headboard was the weakest and started straining against it.

“When an Alpha without a partner enters their rut they scent out distress. Like a pheromone SOS call to any Omega in the area. Your friend isn't. He’s scenting arousal and confusion,” Claire pressed, dropping her bag and advancing, accidentally crowding him up against the back of the kitchen counter. Venues of escape lessening – both physically and metaphorically the longer the moment dragged.

“You know why? Because he’s already chosen his Omega. And deep down he knows that his Omega has chosen him back. He made that choice a long time ago and so did you. And you keeping yourself away? Smelling like you do? _It’s killing him_. He knows, Matt. Rut or not he knows you want him. And please tell me you aren't stupid enough to think he doesn't know you feel the same?”

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Mentally reviewing every moment, every memory, everything that had defined their relationship over the past few years with new eyes. Letting himself consider the idea that his feelings might not have been as one sided as he’d thought as new possibilities and an even brighter future rebuilt themselves tall in his mind’s eye.  
  
“Finally,” Claire breathed, huffing exaggeratedly. Probably doing that thing she did when she was reminding herself that he couldn’t see her rolling her eyes at him. “Jesus, Karen told me you two were idiots, but I was beginning to think I was going to have to carve it into your forehead in braille.”

“What if you’re wrong?” he started, licking his lips nervously as pain lanced through the splits. Trying to reorder almost a decade worth of assumptions and…oh god- _pining_ , as Foggy growled. It was a questioning sound that rose deliberately high in pitch the longer it went on. Instinctual and basic as the Omega in him twitched.

His Alpha wanted him.

_Foggy wanted him._

All this time.

After everything that had happened.  

Foggy still wanted-

“I’m not,” she firmed, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss into his hair. Something he didn’t even know he needed as he breathed through the shockwave of the movement. “I’ve dealt with my share of rutting Alphas. But I know the difference between rut-lust and the real thing.”

The real thing.

_The real thing._

_The real-_

“I can’t-” he started, holding up a hand to stop her before she could start as the saliva-stretch of pulled back lips told him she was about to read him the riot act in less than three seconds flat. “It’s not what you think. I want to, Claire, I just- we talked about it once in college. The reason he took suppressants. It wasn’t what you think. It was about control, self-consent. Finding someone who wanted him, not his biology.”

“But you _do_ want him,” she reminded, soft, like she understood where this was going but still had to hear him say it.

“There’s never been anyone else,” he answered hoarsely, _honestly_. “But this isn’t about me. It’s about him. _It has to be_. So I can’t, not until I’m sure. Not until he says-”

She blew out a breath when he cut himself off. Noisy and without filter as he ducked his head and tried to reign in the frenetic beat of his heart. He focused on her instead. On how the weight of her gaze was making the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. Her breath was stale and shot through with bad hospital coffee and the lingering hints of cafeteria chemicals. Telling him that since she hated the hospital cafeteria, she’d probably forgotten her lunch – again.

“Well, if that’s what you need to do, then so it be it. But for god’s sake, grow a pair and at least help him through it, alright?” she finally replied, sounding three hundred percent done with the both of them despite the undercurrent of fond exasperation still discernible in her tone. Something he was becoming all too familiar with, if he was being honest.

“Help? How?”

“It’s not the Stone Age, Matt,” she retorted, disturbing the dust-motes swirling above their heads as she leaned down, digging through her bag again. “There are these things called _sexual aids_ , you know. Otherwise known as my current love life. Here, these should help, I grabbed these from one of the supply closet in the Alpha and Omega wing.”

He startled when a jumble of smooth, suggestive shapes were thrust into his chest. Erection flagging for the first time since Foggy’s rut had thickened the air as he took a careful step back, face flushing. The smell of latex made his nose twitch as the woman knelt down – knees popping – fishing around in her bag like this was just another day in the life of a trauma nurse. Cheerfully shoving sex toys – origins unknown – into her friend’s arms. Apparently not the least bit concerned about boundaries and propriety as she started talking again.

“Compared to Omegas, Alphas are dead easy to sort out,” she shared, hair hushing across her face in loose ringlets as the rasp of a zipper issued into the relative quiet. “Most ruts can be solved in one or two sessions with a simulated Omega sleeve and some hormones. They like to scent their Omega - need to - and if possible have something to sink their teeth into when their knot pops. Think of it as a stand in for a bond-bite. Most Alphas are freaks like that. You have no idea how many rumpled Omegas I’ve had to look over because their Alpha was a bit too _amorous_ during their heat. But hey, what do I know? Being a Beta and all.”

“But at the end of the day the one real need is to knot. An Alpha his age, well, he’s young so he might need double, triple if you are taking into consideration whenever they dosed him with. But if he’s really been on suppressants as long as you say he has, well, god only knows. You might have to call yourself in from work, because you probably have your work cut out for you. Oh, and I’m not saying you’ll need it, but-”  
  
He breathed in the stench of silicone and synthetic Omega hormone and immediately regretted it. Ducking his head into his shoulder in an instinctive bid to rid himself of the scent. Stale, bland and very much _not his_ in a way that had his hackles rising. A small, rolling growl issuing from deep in his throat before he could temper it back, fighting the urge to toss the packet clear across the room.

But Claire just laughed.

“Yeah, I thought as much. Jesus Christ, you _are_ an idiot, you know that, Matt? Both of you are. Lucky for you, you probably won't need the hormone. You might be on suppressants but you’re responding to his rut. Which, by the way, is an understatement. Now, do you want me to-”

Two things happened in quick succession.

First, his phone started ringing. Repeating: _Karen. Karen. Karen_ in that same unflattering monotone as he tried to juggle an armful of Omega sleeves and some questionable feeling dildos to swipe ignore. And second, the headboard in the bedroom split clear down the center. Echoing with a horrendous scream of screeching bolts and bone dry oak as Foggy snarled in clear triumph.  
  
“On second thought, you know what? I am just going to call ahead to Karen and get you off the hook for work tomorrow,” Claire called at his retreating back, sniggering as he launched himself down the hall. Hoping to get there before the Alpha untangled himself from the bedposts.

“You guys are going to need it!”


	4. Chapter 4

"Jesus fuck-  _Matt…"_

He started with good intentions, pure ones - mostly. Really, he did. He pushed the bed up against the wall and got Foggy settled against it. Speaking in a hushed purr that somehow managed to ensnare the Alpha's attention. Humming how strong he was -  _how lovely_. How much he couldn't wait to have him. How he was going to take such good care of him. Anything and everything to keep him distracted as he strapped the belts holding his friend's wrists around the bars on either side of the frame. Praying that Foggy would forgive him in the morning.

"Matt,  _please_ -"

He wasn't sure what it meant when Foggy just let him. Staring up at him adoringly –  _hungrily_ – as his cock throbbed against the sheets. Jerking and bobbing under the criminally thin covers as his senses threatened to overload. Stimulated and arcing as the taint of pre-cum aired out in the close space. He licked his lips, able to tell as he inhaled, that it had already soaked through the fabric and had started trickling down the blond's sack to wet along his perineum. Evidence itself of just how desperate the Alpha was as he moved around the room quickly, getting ready. Toeing out of his socks and rustling with the plastic of the bags Claire had shoved at him. Trying desperately not to think.

Foggy, for his part, just breathed.

_Loudly._

Watching him intently, feverish-eyes glittering in the half-dark of the room.

Or, at least he was pretty sure they were glittering.

The switch was a heady thing. Thrillingly different as the man's dominant side threatened to make him go belly up and panting for it as pheromones leeched like smoke from the man's skin. Foggy was usually so gentle. Malleable and passive until he got his back up about something. More likely to deflect than take a swing at you. But this was different.  _He was different._

This was like looking into a predator's eyes and holding them. The Foggy he knew wasn't gone, no, it wasn't as simple as that. Rather, he was altered. Addled through with instincts and drives all surging for center stage. After all he didn't have to look very far to know what the man was thinking.

"Please Matt, I can't- I want-"

He cleared his throat, swallowing loudly as he nearly choked on his own spit. Pulling a chair over to the side of the bed as he set the armful of sheaths and other toys on the floor beside him. Good intentions going lurching right out the window when he fisted his hand into the curl of the sheets and tried to remind himself to keep breathing.

And honestly, everything just went downhill from there.

* * *

"Matt…. _Matt_."

His hands shook as he dragged the sheet off Foggy's lower half. Trying and failing to be clinical about it as he grasped the base of the man's prick and eased it into the sheath. Chewing on the inside of his cheek as his senses flung the information back at him. Telling him how hard Foggy was. How he was leaking from the tip in a slow trickle, copious and thick. How big he was, uncut and proud. Fat around the base but with a right lean at the tip. And how his knot was already halfway there.

He thought about how good it would feel inside him.  _How right._

Foggy would fuck him full. He knew that.

He'd fuck him so full he'd feel it for a week after and enjoy every ache.

Foggy would give him  _everything_ , let him-

He came back to himself when Foggy started whining. Pulling violently at the belts strapped around his wrists in a vain attempt to get free. Only just realizing that he'd started rolling and petting the man's sack in turns. Running his fingers through the trimmed snarl of wiry blonde hair and purring low in his throat as he jacked the Alpha slowly.

"Christ, Foggy," he whispered, wiping at the sweat threatening to drip down from his temples. Unable to hold back a sudden whimper as he shifted in the chair, fighting the tantalizing burst of friction as his cock pushed up against his zipper. " _Christ._ "

* * *

"You'd do this for me, wouldn't you, Matty? You'd suck me off if I asked. I know you would. Those pretty lips stretched around my cock,  _f-fuck!_  I can picture it, you know? Used to get myself off thinkin' about it. You want it-  _me_ …I can tell. I think I've always been able to tell. I just didn't-"

The slap of skin on skin was  _obscene_. A building symphony screaming through his heightened senses like a fourteen lane freeway. Burning him out – scalding and pure - every time Foggy bit down on a curse or begged for his lips. Wanting more and more until masking frustrated growls that started bubbling up was moot point and suddenly Foggy was  _seizing_. Coming with fast, violent jerks into the toy as it squeezed around his knot – milking the Alpha through his orgasm as the taste of red flooded down from the roof of his mouth.

It was the sixth time Foggy had come in less than two hours and honestly he had no idea why neither of them weren't dead yet. Foggy from exhaustion and him from full on  _genital strangulation_ because holy hell he'd never imagined pants being so much of an issue in his entire god damned life.

"Let me take care of you," he breathed, the words bubbling up unbidden as Foggy eyed him through the sweaty-dark of his fringe. Hips still hovering, seeking the pressure of the toy as his knot tied and locked him deep. Cumming in thick, endless spurts as the inflatable bags on the end of the toy quickly filled.

He imagined breathing him in, nose rubbing against that dark thatch of hair that crowned his groin as Foggy pumped into his mouth. This is the way he'd wanted it.  _How he needed it._  All raw and needy and desperate. He imagined memorizing the subtle play of muscles that would flex under his skin the same as he pictured Foggy losing control and fucking his mouth, blunt fingers curling in his hair, demanding every ounce of him as his voice rang out - hoarse and wrecked. Singing out his name as his Alpha claimed him in front of everyone.

_And Foggy would too._

_He'd claim him – use him._

_Show them how good he was._

_How right they were together._

_How-_

He imagined Foggy's fat cock plumping in his mouth. Tasting him long before the thick spunk hit his tongue. Groaning and shaking apart above him as he choked him with his knot. And came for the first time.  _Completely untouched._

* * *

"Touch me," Foggy growled, head slamming back against the pillows when the smell of his release reached him. Driving the Alpha wild as his knot deflated, and the toy was quickly switched for the spare. Fingers shaking too much to bother emptying the cum-bags as he eased the fresh sheath over the Alpha's length and started pumping.

" _Matt…"_

His fingers clenched around the edge of the bed. Indecisive.  _Weakening_. Trying to justify the actions he already knew he was going to take. Foggy wanted him. Needed him. He was too far gone to even try to fight it. Self-control felt like a pipe dream whispered by mummer's children – useless and besides the point.

He was nothing more than a frayed ball of nerves. Exposed and over-loaded as he gave into his instincts and slid off the chair onto the floor, shuffling on his knees as a growl issued from between Foggy's clenched teeth. Straining like there was already a precipice he was teetering on the edge of even though he only finished coming less than two minutes ago. Only needing the slightest push to topple back over again.

"Please Matt, just _\- I need_ -"

He ducked his head and licked into the curl of his Alpha's nape. Nosing and whimpering and burying his face deep into the man's sweaty hair as his hands started moving without his consent. One hand jerking himself in time with Foggy's thrusts into the toy and the other providing a firm base for the man to grind against. Spearing up into the sheath again and again, butting up against the curl of his palm like the man was trying to push through his rim, circling the puffy entrance with single-minded intent.

He lost time somewhere along the line only to find himself plastered over Foggy. Kissing into his mouth and tugging on the man's lower lip with urgent hums of sound as the muscles in his arms started to burn. Over worked as he grinded his hardness into the sheath like they were rubbing cocks. Feeling the vibrations spread through him like wildfire as Foggy cussed out a blue streak.

"So good for me, Matty. So good. You look- _oh god!"_

There are tears in his eyes, it was that good. He felt like a live-wire. Electric and ten seconds from a complete melt down as Foggy choked on a moan. Hips arcing high. Pumping into the sheath as his knot popped into the toy with a liquidly squelch of pre-cum and synthetic Omega slick.

Making him wish - more than he ever had - to be able see. To be able to watch Foggy fall apart. Writhing and beautiful and all because of him.

His release splattered across over Foggy's belly, painting him milky-white until it was dripping down his sides as he jerked himself through it. Watching the ripples of heat and sound wash over him, painting a picture of the Alpha caught in the moment. Pulling frenetically at the toy fastened around his knot, filling it up with his cum until it started leaking out of the sheath. Distracting him just a second too long as Foggy abruptly tensed every muscle. Wrenching his hand away from the bed – taking half the frame with it – hooked him by the chin and sank his teeth in to the pale of his throat.

The world didn't white out.

_It imploded._

_Taking both him and Foggy with it as the Alpha bore down and broke skin._

_Giving himself over._

_Claiming him._

_As everything he was surged up to answer._

_Screaming his consent as he went limp in his Alpha's hold and let him in._

Because quite suddenly, there wasn't  _anything_  in the world he couldn't see.

* * *

In the end, like all good things, it just took time. Time to heal. Time to sort each other out. Time to reaffirm a new normal which apparently included them pining over each other since basically the day they'd met. Time to get used to the idea that – according to both Karen and Claire - they were to two biggest idiots in New York. Something which Foggy pointed out, he wasn't surprised about in the slightest.

He called objection via contempt of court out of reflex and booted Karen out the door early three days in a row because she couldn't stop cackling. But considering how Foggy had lit up like the equivalent of human sunshine when they'd woken up in his apartment in a tangled, sweaty and completely  _hopeless_  pile three days after the whole 'kidnapping incident,' he figured there was more than a bit of truth to it.

There wasn't a piece of furniture he owned that didn't have either cum or slick on it and the headboard was most definitely broken and still in pieces on his bedroom floor. But considering he'd woken up half-glued to Foggy's chest, their breathing synced as he moved with the rise and fall of his Alpha's chest – he decided to take it as a win.

Time was a weird,  _weird_  thing.

It was a self-dictated metaphor masquerading as a word. A mess of contradictions and lop-sided overlaps that really didn't make much sense when you applied logic to it. Because in the end, despite what he figured would happen, taking the step from best friends to lovers really didn't seem to take much time  _at all_.

Like a slope that gradually starts rolling downhill, they were nearing the finish line before he could really process the change. Cumulating into a handful of giddy and completely ridiculous months where their relationship evolved for the better. Until Karen catching them kissing in the supply closet became a semi-regular occurrence and Foggy started dragging Matt home with him most nights. Feeding him and narrating his favorite TV-shows before squashing him into his big leather couch or stupidly cheap mattress and doing things to him that made his toes curl.

And while only the sex thing was really new, Claire started calling him a 'kept man.' Teasing him lightly as he dropped by every so often to get stitched up and pretend to drink her awful coffee. Finding himself smiling more and more as he listened to her blabber on about setting Karen up with a nice Beta she knew in the Pediatric ward. Sated and peaceful for the first time in longer than he could remember.

Maybe ever.

His nightly excursions both changed and stayed remarkably the same. He still went out. Still saved people and every so often got beaten to hell. But packing it in for the night felt different now, different because there is someone waiting up on him. Missing him. Someone he'd brave the streets of Hell's Kitchen every night for the rest of his life if it meant keeping them safe.

Foggy's Alpha reared its head more than once over it. But mostly it was just Foggy he had to contend with. Compromising whenever the man got huffy but always knowing Foggy would never make him choose. Him or the city. They believed in what they were doing – both in the firm and outside of it – too much to ever truly quit.

It didn't stop Foggy from complaining though – worrying. Generally being a complete mother hen about things whenever he figured he was pushing himself too hard. But then again, he hadn't expected anything less.

He enjoyed every moment of it and took Foggy's grouching over every new bruise with good grace. Secretly living for the soft touches – reaffirming and gentle – that cataloged and soothed every fresh line of red or throbbing ache. Allowing his Alpha to take care of him as the streets grew mean and restless. Still reeling from the loss of organization and structure Fisk's empire had provided.

He relearned his body through Foggy's hands and soaked up every second like a sponge. Insatiable and overeager as he listened to his Alpha's heartbeat ramp up. Teasing him with his mouth – ghost-like and barely there – around the head of his cock. Bobbing lightly, more playing with the purpling skin than setting out any sort of rhythm. Keeping him balanced on the edge until Foggy snapped and rolled them. Teeth scraping down the side of his neck as the man grabbed their cocks and started thrusting into the curve of his hip.

When Foggy got like that, a mess of hard breathing and muted snarls, he didn't stop until he was puddling outwards. Writhing and keening into his Alpha's lips as Foggy told him how pretty he was -  _how good_. Smearing his cum into the hollowed juts until all he could smell was  _Foggy_  and him and  _them_  until rational thought was a lost cause and he never wanted to smell like anything else for the rest of his god damned  _life._

* * *

He stopped taking his suppressants not long after Claire managed to smuggle Foggy's bloodwork into the lab. Insisting it was necessary even when Foggy basically did the equivalent of his Dad taking a sucker punch in the ring. Rolling with it rather than dropping to the mat. She came back muttering about smartass blood techs and cashing in a few favors a couple of days later. But with a clean bill of health. No sign there would be any lasting effects from whatever they'd dosed him with.

By that point he'd been knee deep trying to figure out who the hell took Foggy in the first place and why, but even he had noticed Foggy's embarrassed preen as Claire gave him a brief check-up amidst the debris of his bedroom and what he was pretty sure had once been a side table. Clicking her tongue as she talked about Alpha immune systems and Foggy's impressive display of self-control. Laughing without filter as Karen blew up both their phones, threatening to stop by if they didn't fill her in on all the details.

Well, not all of them.

Because, you know,  _ew_.

He let his body speak for him as the weeks passed. Allowing their cycles to stagger into a match as he mentally counted down the days until what they had would be cemented -  _official_. Bondmates in every sense of the word. And while the fast-paced skip that entered Foggy's breathing when he picked up his natural, Omega scent for the first time was _more_  than gratifying. He couldn't help but consider it payback for being surrounded in  _alphafoggyminealpha_  since that night in the building across town.

But when he sank down, taking everything Foggy had to give in one tortuously smooth glide, he had to admit he'd underestimated the feeling. The knowledge that Foggy was  _his_  just as much as he was the same. That he'd  _always_  be. That he  _wanted_  to be. Because despite the heat curling up in his belly and the slick coating down his thighs, just being here, like this, with Foggy? Well, it felt like the closest thing to heaven that the devil in him would allow.

And ironically, he was more than okay with that.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Knot today, Satan (our ode for a helping hand)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5595454) by [dapatty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapatty/pseuds/dapatty)




End file.
